Who: Terry McGinnis, Bruce Wayne What: Late night panic. When:Friday night Where: Ledge outside the clock tower fortress. Warnings: Violent flash backs to come. Status: incomplete, TBA.
Tick tock, clock. Was that how that old rhyme went? Terry didn't know why he was recalling old nursery rhymes as he listened to the sounds of the clock tower. That wasn't really much of a surprise though. How was it Barbara had described high? ..as a kite-he added of his own accord as he stared up at the ceiling from his bed. Nothing really made sense anymore. It was like something was disconnected inside, all wrong and he was watching from the outside while someone else controlled his body. Everyone was telling him to rest it off. Don't fight it, it'll come. He couldn't sleep, he was beyond it. Beyond feeling. Sliding off the medical table, he shivered as bare feet touched the ground. Yanking beeping monitoring systems from his arms, heading for the sound of the cock and forcing an opening. He stepped out onto the ledge and looked blearily at the city leaving the bed and room empty. Dark. The only sounds were the monitoring systems beeping irregularly as he had torn them off his arms. He didn't know what to think, or what to feel. Bruce was his dad?...how was he supposed to react? Max would think it was schway. That he had all the luck.
The air was cool and rain was gently falling in a steady stream. Causing black hair to mat against his face, and his uncomfortable medical gown even more uncomfortable. But discomfort wasn't exactly a stranger for him lately. Bruce was his father. The Joker kept him isolated in a room for days possibly. A week he could barely remember. He felt numb. Even the chill of the air didn't affect him, his bare feet dangled off the ledge. A glow of green from the face of the clock lit up his features. He could see his breath in the air as he reached out a hand and watched it fill with water. The water warped to blood inront of his eyes..his hands stained with crimson before them...and color drained from his skin. Red droplets slid down his arms and the blood mixed with rain that fell through his fingers. He felt ill, and his arms dropped to his thighs. No matter how many times he washed them they would never be clean. He curled a little closer to the clock in hopes with time he might actually disappear.